


Thoughts

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [23]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompts, Fluff, M/M, Mystrade Prompt Challenge, Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 16:50:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17512334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: When negations with a foreign faction start to get on Mycroft nerves he lets his thoughts wander.





	Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts | Soft

“You are aware everything you say after the conjunction negates everything you said before it?” Mycroft dipped the point of his Meisterstück Great Masters James Purdey & Sons Fountain Pen into the midnight blue ink bottle and scribbled a note on the pad before him.

_The cotton swap he used when I nicked myself shaving._

They were into the fourth hour of the second day of negotiations with the Belarus diplomats. Lady Elizabeth Smallwood had pleaded with him to handle this with soft gloves, but the diplomats were being anything but. Belarus knew they would not win this. Everyone seated at the panel knew it. Still, they were being unnecessarily obstinate.

Mycroft was determined this will not go into a third day.

_The Egyptian cotton bespoke shirt I slipped off his broad shoulders_

“Dear God, man! Perhaps the rapid acceleration of a thousand-kilo anvil emblazoned with the word clue suddenly stopped upon your cranium would prove a useful assistance if for no other result than the cessation of the drivel you spew in a vainglorious attempt at levity!”

Lady Elizabeth Smallwood sat back in her seat on the dais. She and Mycroft exchanged a knowing look. She was beginning to show her own frustration with the proceedings. Her slight brow arched in a way he knew the soft gloves were about to come off.

“Comprehension of why the universe gives permission for your continued breath upon this earth is a task I find more and more arduous daily.”

_The towels fresh off the warmer I wrapped around him when he stepped out the shower._

He understood her initial need to want to kid glove this, but Mycroft knew it was going to come to this exact moment. His soft side, such as it was not, was over. He closed his ink jar and recapped his pen as he placed it in his pocket.

Not that anyone could ever accuse the Iceman’s words of being soft to begin with. His words had been more diplomatic earlier. As the hours wore on, they became less so.

Though his face was as placid as ever to the unknowing, he knew Lady Smallwood was aware Mycroft was utterly livid with the Belarus delegation.

_His lips, with the taste of me, upon mine._

“Perhaps a cessation of such may be in order.” Mycroft politely suggested in the seventh hour of little leeway.

“Cessation?” one of the delegated asked.

“Yes! A break would surely do us all some good!” Lady Smallwood spoke quickly and a little loud.

It was just, _just_ enough to drown out Mycroft’s barely muttered response “Of your life.”

_The cashmere scarf wrapped around his wrists securing him to the bed post._

Lady Smallwood pulled Mycroft aside as they sipped tea.  

“You’d have lost your temper and politely but devastatingly lambasted all in the delegation by now. How are you still so relatively calm?”

“Soft thoughts?” He answered, amused by her barely heard snort of mirth in response.

“How many ways have you murdered them in your mind?”

“Three hundred and forty-nine at current count.”

“Is that all? You ARE getting soft Holmes.”

Lady Smallwood was one of the very few people who knew how to read him well. Though Mycroft knows he has barely shifted a muscle in his face, the smile that graced Lady Smallwood’s features was indicative of her noting the incredulous look he had regardless.

“He’s good for you.” she said softly.

“As yours is for you. I know you have theatre plans _and beyond_ tonight, Liz.” Mycroft looked at the woman over his tea cup. She did not try to deny her newest lover or any part of her plans. He gave her an honest smile. “It’s been two days. Let’s say we end this nonsense.”

“Oh, I’d be delighted.” She threw her shoulders back ready for the next battle “Get me back to mine and get you back to yours.”

_The 2,000 thread count sheets on which he’ll spread his knees for me – wide – in about three hours._

“Let’s go.”


End file.
